


Mornings Aren't Your Strongest Suit

by RubyFiamma



Series: Daily Life Arc {Future Vongola Edition} [1]
Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: 8059, Blowjobs, Domestic Fluff, Family Fluff, Light smut in passing, M/M, Premonition!verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-03
Updated: 2014-11-03
Packaged: 2018-02-24 00:46:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2561855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RubyFiamma/pseuds/RubyFiamma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>5 instances of Yamamoto waking up with Gokudera and that one time he doesn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mornings Aren't Your Strongest Suit

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Premonition](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2317529) by [RubyFiamma](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RubyFiamma/pseuds/RubyFiamma). 
  * Inspired by [Premonition](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2317529) by [RubyFiamma](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RubyFiamma/pseuds/RubyFiamma). 



> This series will contain a bunch of oneshots and shorts surrounding different occurrences in the Vongola family. They'll include members of the Varia and CEDEF as well as members of allied families. Basically a daily life arc only less boring, mostly of future fics and probably a lot of smut and fluff. I haven't decided on all the pairings involved yet, but each part of the series will have appropriate warnings.
> 
> Consider it a dump of sorts, where I take my half assed ideas and try to make them into something but don't have enough material to make it any good.

**Mornings Aren't Your Strongest Suit**

* * *

 

 **I** **.**

Sunlight is harsh first thing in the morning. Thus, Yamamoto tends to keep his heavy blue curtains drawn in his room. It's even worse after a night of drinking, and then something that you worship can easily turn into something horribly menacing.

He can't remember much about the night before and it's Gokudera's fault, really. He didn't have plans on drinking at Tsuna's sixteenth birthday party but Gokudera and Sempai challenged him to a drinking contest and well, he's always been the competitive type.

He thinks he beat them, but he isn't too sure. Sempai, despite the way he looks, can't handle his alcohol for shit and Gokudera is tiny, but he drinks like a... something. Yamamoto can't really think of idioms right now. He groans and sits up and everything is foggy and hazy. He remembers vaguely that Sempai passed out in the restaurant downstairs, Tsuna went home because he was normal and he didn't drink  _at_   _all_. The girls left with Tsuna and after Gokudera got a little drunk, he nagged on Bianchi for making him sick all the time and she got pissed. She ended up leaving with the kids. Yamamoto can't remember what happened to everyone else. He doesn't even remember climbing the stairs to his bedroom and he's in awe that he didn't fall down them and break his neck. Well... when he sees Gokudera, he'll be sure to tell him he's never drinking again. But for now, he's going back to bed. Except he can't sleep.

And so... Hangover city it is, head throbbing and sun glaring and he has decided he really  _hates_ waking up. That is -- until he feels the mattress dip and something shuffle beside him; until he feels an arm around his waist and a grating voice telling him to  _close_ _the_ _fucking_ _curtains_ _,_ _idiot_ _._

He hates the mornings until he realises Gokudera has just spent the night in his bed and more than anything, he wishes he could remember how the hell that happened.

 **II** **.**

Yamamoto wakes up and the birds are chirping outside. The window is cracked just a bit and the sun filters in through his curtains. He can smell the crisp spring air and truthfully, he is already in a great mood. But then he remembers that he and Gokudera fooled around for the first time and he's never known that blow jobs could be so amazing and he doesn't even want to _ask_ Gokudera how he learned that one technique -- something amazing he does with his tongue that makes Yamamoto shiver in pleasure with recollection. He's had blow jobs before, from several girls at school, so he can't come down hard on Gokudera for knowing a few expert tricks -- either way, it's not something he wants to think about while he's basking in the after glow of taking their relationship to the next step.

But then Yamamoto's insides start to ice over and he's not really sure he'll make it through the rest of the day alive. 

Fear suddenly creeps it's way up his spine and dread nestles itself deep in his gut. They're not even dating, not really, and this is an example of why you should never drink at parties. More or less not drink  _ever_ _._ It was Tsuna's inauguration ceremony and Shamal and Dino urged that everyone have a customary Italian experience and Yamamoto happily jumped on that train the second it was suggested. He had feelings for Gokudera, knew that Gokudera felt somewhat the same, but Gokudera's pride got in the way. So Yamamoto needed all the liquid courage he could get.

Well, he's pretty sure he confessed to Gokudera again, but like -- confessed  _love_ for him.And he's pretty sure that Gokudera, in his slurred speech and teetering stance, made some sort of committal noise, gave a nod for good measure and then unceremoniously tossed the flute of champagne he was drinking from off the balcony. What happens next is a bit of a blur, but Yamamoto thinks after that, Gokudera attacked him and somehow by some miracle, they ended up back at Yamamoto's place.

In his bed, Gokudera sleeps on the inside, back turned to Yamamoto. And Yamamoto is gleefully shameless when he cranes his neck to peer over the bomber's sharp shoulder and steal a glance at his sleeping face. It pangs his heart with hard regret because Gokudera looks like an angel. The crease from the constant scowl is smooth, silvery-black lashes brush his ivory cheeks which have just the slightest pink hue to them. His lips are soft and plush and parted just a little and his sparkling silver hair adorns the pillow. Yamamoto takes in a deep breath and decides he'd rather not be here when Gokudera wakes up.

He isn't prepared to get his ass kicked for doing something Gokudera might find disgusting now that he's sober; after all Yamamoto is a man and it wasn't just Gokudera that put out. If Yamamoto's being honest, he enjoyed getting Gokudera off and  _likes_ the way he tastes, but Gokudera isn't as easily won over -- even if he was the one who initiated it all.

He doesn't want to get blown up because well, a lot of his favourite baseball memorabilia is in this room and he'd rather Gokudera not go off on a rampage while including his fire works, either.

Yamamoto sighs and throws his feet over the side of his bed, discarding the heavy comforter off his body and groaning when he's faced with his naked self and straining hard on. Perhaps he'll drown himself in guilt and lechery locked in the bathroom and do as much as possible to avoid Gokudera. But... He really doesn't want to avoid him, he _wants to be with him_.

As he's about to get up, a slender hand wraps around his wrist with an iron grip and a voice that's muffled travels out from underneath the blankets.

"Come back to bed, idiot. It's cold and I want your body heat."

Yamamoto's heart skips a beat and he jumps back under the covers where Gokudera reprimands him for creating too much of a draft but they kiss anyways and kissing then leads to touching and Gokudera's not ashamed or angry when he licks a hard stripe up Yamamoto's thigh and devours his cock in one fell swoop. If mornings like this were what he had to look forward to, then Yamamoto could spend the rest of his life with Gokudera.

 **III** **.**

He  _cannot_ spend the rest of his life with Gokudera, he is goddamned  _impossible_  to get along with or reason with. He's an insensitive bastard and he  _hurts_ Yamamoto with those glaring and disapproving eyes; hard and sharp like jagged jade. His words  _stin_ g like the lash of a whip. His punches, his slaps, even the times he shoves Yamamoto are nothing compared to the things he  _doesn't_ execute with violence.

Yamamoto figures being with someone shouldn't be so hard; if you like them and they like you, then shouldn't it just be smooth sailing? But with Gokudera they fight more often then not and the times they don't fight, it's Yamamoto biting his tongue. He knows the reason why Gokudera is so abrasive, he just wished Gokudera would let him in and let Yamamoto be the one to make his future better than his past.

But, since Gokudera is a cold and heartless bastard, Yamamoto broke up with him. And he told himself he'd stick to his decision no matter what, because (as Haru told him) he didn't deserve to be emotionally and physically abused by someone who was supposed to love them. Well, he didn't know if Gokudera  _loved_ him per se, he just knew it shouldn't hurt to be with someone that much.

Except when Yamamoto wakes the morning after, he reaches out to wrap his arms around the ghost of a body and frowns. Waking up  _without_  Gokudera hurts more, and he doesn't think that it'd be possible. He feels hollow and empty, like Gokudera's side of the bed and he feels dark and dreary, like the weather outside. There's a sharp pain in his chest, far worse than he had ever felt when he and Gokudera would fight -- because he was always there afterwards, wasn't he? Yamamoto knew that no matter how many times they fought, they could make up and that usually was the best part. Except now Gokudera isn't here, and there isn't any making up and there's never going to be because Gokudera's never going to forgive him for breaking up with him.

It hurts a  _lot_ and as Yamamoto grips the navy blue bed sheets with the same agonising ferocity as heartbreak grips his chest, he decides that waking up to Gokudera is worth every stupid nickname, every glare or scowl, every screaming match, flying fists or tossed fire works --  _everything_ is worth it, as long as Gokudera is the first thing he sees every morning.

 **IV** **.**

Mornings were a different routine for each of them, they learned that when they got their first apartment together in college. Gokudera was a morning person during the week. He was always out of bed at the crack of dawn, flooding the apartment with the heady smell of fresh brewed Colombian coffee and cigarette smoke. Yamamoto was  _not_ a morning person during the week. He dreaded school and the monotony of it. His alarm would sound and he'd hit snooze and it would annoy the hell out of Gokudera, so he put it on the other aide of the room, forcing Yamamoto to have to get out of bed to shut it off. Unfortunately for Gokudera though, Yamamoto easily slept through his alarm and unfortunately for Yamamoto, Gokudera would kick the shit out of him until he dragged his lazy  _ass_  out of bed.

On the weekends, it was different. Gokudera was  _not_  a morning person. Yamamoto would always wake early, draw the curtains and let in the sunlight and chirp noisily or poke and prod until Gokudera threw pillows at him so he'd shut up or got up.

The latter rarely happened though, because Gokudera would just throw the comforter over his head and mumble incoherently and eventually go back to sleep. One time, Yamamoto had lied and said Tsuna was at the door and Gokudera jumped from the bed so fast it made Yamamoto dissolve into a fit of hysterical laughter but the laughter was short lived when Gokudera found there was  _no_ Tsuna at the door and suddenly he had a handful of dynamite and Yamamoto was being urged to write his final will and testament.

Yamamoto's gotten more creative since then and he's found the best way to wake Gokudera up is via early morning blow jobs. It's more fun this way and Gokudera is  _easy_ to manipulate when Yamamoto's head is between his legs. 

This morning, he's got Gokudera's cock between his mouth, working it like a popsicle in the summer heat, and two fingers inside him. Gokudera writhes underneath him, legs splayed and his fingers claw at his scalp. He moans Yamamoto's name, it's rough and paper thin and it sends a jolt right down to Yamamoto's groin. He swears and often falls into his native tongue and when he lets loose, it only encourages Yamamoto; makes him braver and bolder.

Yamamoto uses his tongue to flick over the other man's sensitive and swollen head and when he glides his mouth down Gokudera's shaft, he thrusts up with his fingers and hits that sensitive spot in concert and it's the perfect formula to draw sharp, sultry moans and sputtering breaths from the bomber. He keeps going until Gokudera can barely form a word, let alone a sentence, stroking against his prostate while he strokes Gokudera's length with his mouth. He knows Gokudera's close when he can see the muscles tense in his abdomen and when Gokudera's heels are digging into the mattress and his toes are curling.

"Jesus  _fuck_ , Yama--!" he cries when he comes and Yamamoto swallows every drop and licks his lips victoriously. He succeeds in getting Gokudera up but it's another hour or two before they actually leave the bed.

 **V** **.**

Marital bliss is different for every couple, Yamamoto has figured this out. Tsuna and Sasagawa look very happy together and they've been married for two years. Most of the time, Ryohei and Kurokawa look happy too, but she's just grouchy -- kind of like a girl version of Gokudera.

Waking up with an angel entangled in your arms with sterling silver hair fanned out around his head like a halo has got to be some sort of blessing, Yamamoto thinks. What's even better is the gleaming platinum band that's nearly weightless on his finger. He'd never actually think that Gokudera would be  _his_ _,_ wholeheartedly  _his_ and not just tethered by a piece of paper and two rings but by their souls. As cheesy as it sounds, Yamamoto definitely believes he and Gokudera are soul mates and were meant to be together.

Unfortunately, it's not just Gokudera that he's waking up to this morning. He gets a face full of slobbering dog tongue and Gokudera's groaning, annoyed, and pushing Jirou off the bed. The Akita spots Uri, Gokudera's cat, and chases her down the hall. Uri scrambles and slides on the marble floor in the hallway of their very large bungalow, nestled high on top of a hill surrounded by forestry. There's an echo of loud howls and barks and even though Yamamoto finds it entertaining, Gokudera does not.

"Noisy fucking animals," Gokudera complains as he throws the covers over his head. It's Sunday and of course, he's the last one out of bed. "Go let the bastards outside."

Yamamoto's already out of bed, robe on and laughing and he leaves Gokudera in a heap of blankets. After he lets Jirou and Uri outside, Yamamoto moves to the kitchen to make coffee and contemplate what to make for breakfast.

Being married to Gokudera doesn't feel like anything different but he can't help feeling like he's on cloud nine and beaming with pride every time he sees that ring on Gokudera's finger or when  _my_ _husband_ flows so fluidly off his tongue.

He goes back to the room to check on  _his_ _husband_ and Gokudera's there with a scowl on his face, silver tuft poking out through the cocoon of blankets.

"I can't get back to sleep," he complains in that gravelly morning voice that resounds deep within Yamamoto's stomach and makes his cock twitch excitedly.

"You should get up anyways," Yamamoto shrugs. "I'm making coffee... And then I thought maybe we could go out for breakfast." He edges closer to the bed but his focus is on the large bay window they have that allows them to have a spectacular view of the stunning mountain scenery. The sun is high in the sky and the colours of the trees below are golden and red and it paints on the most beautiful  canvas (aside from Hayato's body) that Yamamoto's ever seen.

He's suddenly jerked onto the bed and he's not quite sure of what's happening until Gokudera has him pinned down on the mattress and caged between his arms and legs. He smirks at Yamamoto and leans in for the kill. His lips are warm and soft and teeth are sharp and he kisses Yamamoto fervently. His tongue darts around in every crevice of Yamamoto's mouth and he growls like an animal. He grinds down on Yamamoto and his cock is hard and ready, as much as Yamamoto's own is ready for some much needed attention.

Heat starts to mount and goosebumps spread as Gokudera rubs their cocks together and kisses him breathless. When Gokudera finally pulls away, it's only to lick and nip at his neck and whisper in his ear, "I'd much rather have my breakfast in bed."

 **VI** **.**

It's cold outside and there's frost on the windows. Inside their bed is warm, an inviting space that Yamamoto never wants to leave. As much as he knows there is  _a_ _lot_ of shit he has to do today, sometimes worming out of Hayato's arms and leaving the sanctity of their king sized bed is the most difficult decision he has to make.

It's not one of those mornings, though, where he gets to decide. The rapid patter of feet barrelling down the hallway has already made up his mind. Beside him, Gokudera groans.

"They're coming," he says in mock terror but really, Yamamoto can hear the fondness behind it.

"Well... It is Christmas morning," Yamamoto says, dropping a kiss on silver hair -- which is a lot shorter than it ever has been and Yamamoto prefers it this way, he thinks. It makes Hayato look more mature, more appropriate for PTA meetings, even if Yamamoto's the one that usually goes because well, Hayato still has a bit of an explosive temper and the teachers are apparently not smart nor skilled enough to tell Hayato anything. 

They're well in their thirties now and Hayato is even more beautiful, if that were even possible. He's  _handsom_ e, with a long and lean but structured frame and sharp, chiseled jaw and his hair in the front comes down long enough to reach it. The back is short, cut to the nape of his neck and Yamamoto thinks he looks the sexiest in his form fitting slacks, crisp linen dress shits and tailored vests.

He's calmed down some, maybe he's a little nicer. Life has been good to him and he's got no reason to hold on to that angry little boy inside him anymore. Yamamoto's happy that he was able to bring it out of him, tame his storm if you will. He rarely smokes, which puts Yamamoto's mind at ease. He's sometimes romantic, docile and caring and he's (surprisingly) a  _really_   _good_  family man.

He's literally Yamamoto's every dream come true.

Their door swings open and there's sudden chaos as Tsuyato jumps on their bed between them, giggling.

"Santa came! Santa came!" he exclaims, wrapping his tiny arms around Yamamoto.

Yamamoto lets out a hearty laugh. "Did he now?"

"Uh huh! Dad, come look! Get up!" He grins wide, looking suspiciously like the younger version of a baseball idiot from many years ago. He slaps Gokudera's cheek with enthusiasm in an effort to wake him.

Jirou trots into the room and jumps on the end of the bed. Gokudera groans and pokes his head completely out of the blankets. He smirks at Tsuyato and pinches his nose.

"Where's my breakfast, short stack?" he teases.

Tsuyato laughs and wriggles free out of Yamamoto's arms and away from Gokudera's tickling assault. "Lavina's making it!" he cries through laughs, giddy and worming on the bed. He's successfully tangled himself in the blankets and Jirou decides now is a good time to get in on all the attention.

Yamamoto bolts up from the bed after giving Gokudera one of those looks because he knows what that means and he's on fire prevention duty now.

"Where's the fire?" Gokudera jokes under the pile of blanketed child and dog.

"In the kitchen, probably," Yamamoto says, eyes comically wide. "Lavina's got your cooking skills, after all."

Gokudera and Tsuyato break out into hysterical laughter as Yamamoto runs down the stairs to find their daughter, Lavina, standing in the kitchen looking like a deer caught in headlights right next to a smoking toaster.

"I tried making breakfast for you guys," she says solemnly but she wears a scowl just like her father's. "I don't understand this. If I set the dial to this setting and set the bread in the toaster at that angle --" She demonstrates by moving her hands in various angles and Yamamoto can't help but smile. "It still burns. How?" 

"It's pretty easy, haha. I'll show you but... How about we do that later...? Tsuyato says Santa came. Don't you want to open your presents?"

Lavina rolls her hazel eyes and flips her flowing silver hair over her shoulder. Nine years old going on thirty and that's the way Bianchi describes her. But, Bianchi is very fond of the children, especially Lavina, who she's taken upon herself to teach her how to be a woman, to which Hayato deems completely unnecessary but Bianchi's never been one to listen to Hayato's complaints.

"Dad says Santa is corporate America's way of --"

"Lavina," Yamamoto sighs while pinching the bridge of his nose. "Please don't say things like that in front of your brother, okay? And don't listen to your father when he says cynical things like that."

Lavina frowns and then runs to Yamamoto and wraps her arms around his waist. She squeezes and sighs. "Sorry, Daddy... I won't say anything to Tsu."

"Say what to me?" Tsuyato asks, barging into the kitchen with Gokudera in tow. He's five and will stay five because Gokudera and Yamamoto both agree they don't want him to grow up as Lavina is already too mature for her age.

He's got wide green eyes and dark, unruly hair with a silver streak running through it. Shamal says it's poliosis and that he's lucky he didn't end up with something more severe that's often associated with that absence of melanoma in his hair. Yamamoto doesn't like to think of it like that, something that scary is really unnerving when it concerns his own child, so he's convinced himself that it's a simple streak of Hayato's silver hair.

Lavina nearly spills the beans and Hayato doesn't help because he's right there to back her up and Yamamoto has to laugh loudly and shoo his family into the living room, where there's a grand Colorado Blue Spruce decorated by the kids (and then later rearranged by Hayato) and Christmas presents literally  _everywhere_.

No one would believe Yamamoto if he said anything (because they'd all picture the teenage Gokudera) but older Hayato -- _Parent Hayato_ \-- around kids is really like a big kid himself. He and Tsuyato dive into the pile of presents and begin rifling through them while Lavina hangs eagerly off the arm of the couch, finally looking like how a child on Christmas  _should_ look. 

Yamamoto smiles to himself, taking a look outside where the lawn and trees are blanketed in fresh white snow. He thinks about all the mornings he's spent with Hayato, each one better than the one before but he's got to say that this little domesticated slice of life right here definitely takes the cake.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are always greatly appreciated!


End file.
